


maXXXimus

by dykeula



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Retail, Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, HAUNTED sex shop, Horror Comedy, M/M, Screenplay/Script Format, Sex Toys, Worms, Yes Elias runs both the archives and a sex shop, what about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeula/pseuds/dykeula
Summary: After his last job fell through, Martin is desperate for a position. Any position. On a whim, he decides to apply for a job working in a sex shop, owned by a certain Elias Bouchard. His colleagues are... interesting. So is the seemingly menacing presence haunting them.So, no tapes. No Institute. This changes surprisingly very little.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Comments: 52
Kudos: 251





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The WIP title for this was also "Love in the time of worms & dildos"  
> Yes, Jon is still very much asexual. Yes, he works in a sex shop.  
> This isn't my first fanfiction written like a script and yet I still don't know how the fuck to write transcripts. Bear with me.  
> This was written in homage to 'HORRORSTÖR' by Grady Hendrix - the story of a haunted IKEA store and annoyed part-time employees who are doomed by their boss to investigate. I would *highly* recommend checking it out, the entire book is designed like an IKEA catalog and it's just *chef's kiss*

[CLICK]

[INT. A STORAGE ROOM]

[THE SOUND OF SHUFFLING FOOTSTEPS, AN AWKWARD ATMOSPHERE.]

**TIM:**

_(smacking his lips together)_ Right, then. That’d be it. You… You got any more questions?

**MARTIN:**

_(stuttering)_ I-I don’t think so? I mean… Where’s the break room?

**TIM:**

Break room? _(laughs)_ Where do you- I, I _(snorts)_ Jesus, you really are new to all this retail business, huh? First time?

[MARTIN MAKES AN EMBARRASSED SOUND.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

_(still laughing lightly)_ He, he, _break room_. Good one… But no, we’ve got a smoke room, if that’s what you’re asking? It’s. It’s a back alley. Behind the dumpsters. Where the _stupid_ cams won’t pick up on any of our office gossip, you know? Not even sure we’re allowed to smoke there. Hmmm. _(he shrugs)_ What the old fool doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

**MARTIN:**

_(nervously)_ Should… Should we…? I mean, isn’t … won’t someone tell on us?

**TIM:**

_(sighing)_ Trust me, newbie. When you applied for this job, how’d your job interview go?

**MARTIN:**

I, I mean… It. It went well? Considering?

**TIM:**

_(not a question)_ He didn’t show up, did he.

**MARTIN:**

No… His secretary was very nice, though! Her name was Annie.

**TIM:**

Good old Annie. She’s the most you’ll see of the man, you know. I’ve been working here for _years_ , and I haven’t seen Mr. B… Bougie… Whatever his name is _once._ None of us have. At least not in any professional setting. I’ll let you in on a little conspiracy of mine: I think the good man is too embarrassed to come down here himself. Doesn’t have the guts. Imagine a chic middle-aged man that by all rights most likely looks like the scarier version of Boris Johnson walking into _here_.

[TIM GASPS DRAMATICALLY, HIS FEET SHUFFLING LOUDLY IN THE EMPTY ROOM.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

The scandal, what would his other respectable business partners say? No way.

**MARTIN:**

_(clearly a little uncomfortable)_ Then why own a sex shop in the first place?

[TIM APPEARS TO BE SHRUGGING.]

**TIM:**

Beats me, man. All I know is that he spends most of his time terrorizing the employees of his other workplace, so we’re all fine and dandy here. Something… The Michael Institute? Fucked if I know. Point is, we can do whatever we want, so long as we bring in some sort of monthly profit. _(A beat of silence, Tim is looking Martin up and down)_ Do you smoke?

**MARTIN:**

_(nervously)_ I, I haven’t smoked cigarettes in ages.

**TIM:**

_(_ _sighing)_ That’s not what I - Never mind. Point is, you could most likely get away with a hell of a lot in here that in a normal, run of the mill retail gig would get you fired. Pay’s not too shabby either. Why’d you apply for the job, anyway? Literally _no one_ else did.

**MARTIN:**

_(stuttering)_ Uh, I- I, I need the money?

**TIM:**

Hmmmm. _(smacking his lips together loudly)_ Capitalism. Hate that.

[MARTIN MAKES AN AFFIRMATIVE NOISE.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

Anyway, about your first shift-

[THE SOUND OF A DOOR BEING FORCEFULLY OPENED, ACCOMPANIED BY ANOTHER PAIR OF HURRIED FOOTSTEPS. THERE’S SOUNDS OF ANNOYANCE THAT ONLY A 9-5 RETAIL JOB CAN CONJURE. MARTIN GASPS.]

**TIM:**

Jon, Jesus, would you _knock-_

**JON:**

And would _you_ bloody well leave the master key where it’s supposed to be-

[HE CUTS HIMSELF OFF. AN AWKWARD PAUSE.]

**JON (CONT’D):**

Who’s this? _(sighing)_ Are you trying to sneak in one of your flings into work again, Stoker? How many times, do I –

**TIM:**

_(cutting him off) Jon_ , that was _one_ time and I think I’m just about done with you ostracizing me for it.

[JON MAKES AN BAFFLED “OSTRACIZED?” SOUND.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

_This_ _(seemingly pointing towards a shellshocked Martin)_ is our new co-worker. Be nice, Jon. You’ve already scared off the others. (looking at Martin) What was your name, again? Michael?

**MARTIN:**

_(stuttering even more profusely now)_ M-M-M-Martin…

**TIM:**

_(smacking his lips together)_ Jep, that was the one. That’s _Martin_. And Martin will be working here, starting… today. Higher up orders.

[THERE’S A HEAVY SILENCE. JON HUMS IN VAGUE DISAPPROVAL. MARTIN APPEARS TO BE BREATHING UNREGULARLY. TIM IS SILENT, MOST LIKELY THINKING OF THE END OF HIS SHIFT AND SIGHING WISTFULLY.]

**JON:**

Hmm. Martin. Have you got any experience working at the cashier’s desk?

**MARTIN:**

I- I, I, I mean, I – I

**JON:**

_(cutting him off)_ Never mind. You’ll do the restocking then, and customer service. I certainly hope you have any experience working with _that_.

**MARTIN:**

_(holding in his breath)_ Y-Yes?

**JON:**

_(sighing, obviously overworked and tired)_ Good. I’ll leave you two, I’m running a little late. Don’t take too long.

[WITH THAT, HE’S OFF. THE SOUND OF ANOTHER DOOR BEING SLAMMED SHUT, JUST AS LOUDLY AS BEFORE. TIM AND MARTIN BOTH SIGH IN UNISON.]

**TIM:**

_(wincing)_ He’s in a mood, isn’t he? Well, sure wouldn’t like to be you just right now.

[MARTIN MAKES A DISTRESSED SOUND.]

**TIM:**

Oh, Jon’s not so bad, he’s – well, he _is_ prissy, but mostly he’s fine. Just don’t let him near any of the customers when he gets like this. He tends to be a smartass. And people don’t like that when they’re here on their lunch break trying to discretely buy dildos.

**MARTIN:**

_(transfixed)_ Who… Who is he?

**TIM:**

_(dismissive)_ Just Jon. Jonathan. Been here just as long as me, if you can believe that. Anyway, back to the job. Sadly, _(sighing dramatically)_ there’s no discount on the toys. Cheap bastard. Nor can we… take them for a spin, let’s say. I’m afraid the only bonus you’ll get here is having the pleasure of working with terribly attractive people, such as me and Sasha. Both of whom are single, _bi_ the way.

[TIM STARTS LAUGHING AT HIS JOKE, ESSENTIALLY BULLYING MARTIN INTO FAKE LAUGHING WITH HIM.]

**MARTIN:**

_(_ _tentatively)_ And- And Jon…?

**TIM:**

Hmm? Oh, yeah, he’s here too, I guess. Though I wouldn’t exactly say working alongside his perfectionism is _pleasurable_. He can be funny, though. You’ll see.

[MARTIN ‘HMM’S IN DISSAPOINTMENT, OBVIOUSLY ASKING AFTER THE LATTER PART OF TIM’S SPEECH. HE LETS IT GO, THOUGH. THERE’S A FEW MORE MOMENTS OF AWKWARD SILENCE BEFORE HURRIED FOOTSTEPS CAN BE HEARD FROM OUTSIDE.]

**TIM:**

Oh boy, he’s _really_ woken up on the wrong foot, hasn’t he? Yikes. _(wincing)_ Anyway, best be off. I’ve run all out of milk, and I gotta go before all the shops close, so – Bye? See you tomorrow? Good luck? All of that. You got this, don’t worry.

[MARTIN MAKES A DISTRESSED SOUND OF PANIC, A “WAIT” CAN BE HEARD IN BETWEEN TIM FRANTICALLY PULLING ON HIS COAT AND DASHING OUT OF THE ROOM. AFTER THE DOOR CLOSES FOR A THIRD TIME. A LOUD SIGH CAN BE HEARD.]

**MARTIN:**

_(speaking to himself)_ Right. Of- Of course. You got this. Couldn’t be worse than your last job, right? Just… Don’t mess it up. _(breathing in air loudly)_ Here we go.

[ANOTHER DOOR IS BEING PUSHED OPEN, REVEALING A COMMOTION IN THE OTHER ROOM. JON HAS ALREADY STARTED A FIGHT WITH A COSTUMER, IT SEEMS. THE DOOR STAYS OPEN FOR A LITTLE WHILE.]

**COSTUMER:**

But the sign says _sex_ shop!

**JON:**

_(getting increasingly more heated, as well as slightly flustered with embarrassment)_ Yes, because we sell _toys_. We don’t sell… sell services. This isn’t a bloody brothel; you can’t just come in here and- and ask me how _much_

**COSTUMER:**

_(getting louder)_ Well, that’s a misleading title, then! I was only asking, mate! Just said you was attractive! Take a bloody compliment!

[JON GRUNTS IN ANGER, BREATHING LOUDLY AND SHARPLY.]

**MARTIN:**

_(sighing)_ Oh, boy.

[THE DOOR IS SUDDENLY SWUNG BACK SHUT. OUTSIDE, MORE COMMOTION IS HEARD. SILENCE DROWNS IT OUT, AS WELL AS A PECULIAR SQUEALSHING SOUND IN THE DISTANCE. IT HAS A PARASITIC SOUND TO IT, ALMOST LIKE WORMS.]

[CLICK.]


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbelievable! Local Employees Do Nothing But Gossip All Day

[CLICK.]

[INT. THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE SHOP, VACANT.]

[IT’S CLEAR IT’S BEEN AT LEAST A MONTH AFTER THAT LAST RECORDING. THE SHUFFLING OF HURRIED FEET CAN BE HEARD, STACKS OF SOMETHING BEING LIFTED AND REALIGNED ON SHELVES. SOMEONE IS ILDLY FLIPPING THROUGH A MAGAZINE, GETTING INCREASINGLY LOUDER. IT’S A PLAYBOY.]

**TIM:**

_(murmuring to himself)_ Can’t believe this… This is what straight people read? Mindboggling, there’s barely any cleavage…

[THERE’S AN OBJECT HITTING THE GROUND, A PANICKED SCREAM, AS WELL AS SOMEONE HITTING THE GROUND FROM SOMEWHERE INSIDE THE SHOP. THE PAGE TURNING STOPS AT ONCE.]

**TIM:**

_(concerned)_ Martin? You alright? Don’t let the beads hit you on the head, those things are _heavy_.

**MARTIN:**

_(louder, puffing)_ I’m… I’m alright. Just startled me.

**TIM:**

_(sighing)_ Worms again?

[FOOTSTEPS ARE DRAWING CLOSER. IT’S MARTIN, HAVING ABANDONED HIS POST. HE PUFFS OUT A LOUD BREATH.]

**MARTIN:**

Should… should we be doing something about this?

**TIM:**

_(snickering)_ Good one.

**MARTIN:**

No, I’m serious, call authorities? This can’t possibly follow any hygiene protocols. I, I mean, I know so far any… none of the customers have complained, but it can’t seriously be healthy to work alongside this… this worm plague, can it? Maybe we should inform pest control.

**TIM:**

_(sighing)_ And then what? They close this place down, we get fired? That just takes us back to square one, back to job hunting and humiliating interviews, and I seem to recall you saying you _needed_ the money.

[MARTIN SIGHS, DEFEATED. HE SLUMPS DOWN ON THE CASHIER DESK.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

You get used to it, buddy. Just use the spray.

**MARTIN:**

I just… I wish they weren’t so… so _friendly_. If only they’d scurried away in fear like regular insects. And the spray barely does _anything_. They don’t even get killed, they just… retreat.

**TIM:**

Hmm. Maybe they like you?

**MARTIN:**

_(angry)_ Tim.

**TIM:**

_(snickering)_ Hey, kidding, I’m kidding! Mostly. But they’re not the only ones, are they? You’re quite popular up in these streets, eh, hot stuff?

[AN AWKWARD SILENCE, MARTIN IS MOST LIKELY BLUSHING ALL OVER HIS BODY FURIOUSLY, STUNNED INTO SILENCE. THEN, FOOTSTEPS CAN BE HEARD. SOMEONE IS WALKING DOWN THE STAIRS.]

**SASHA:**

Who’s hot stuff?

**TIM:**

_(laughing, though seemingly noticing Martin’s discomfort)_ I am.

**SASHA:**

Are you being egomaniacal again, Stoker? We all know who’s been consecutively awarded as Sexiest Employee of The Month. You’ll never beat my record.

**TIM:**

_(mock offended)_ That’s bribery, you voted for yourself. Bullied Martin into believing your false campaign claims. And Jon abstains, as he always does!

**SASHA:**

_(smile evident in her tone)_ I don’t see how that has anything to do with my win? Anyway, I just came to get more change. We’re all out upstairs.

**TIM:**

_(smirking)_ Don’t see how that has anything to do with us, do we, Martin?

**MARTIN:**

_(nervously)_ Uhhh…

**SASHA:**

Come on, now you’re the one bullying the newbie. Hey, Martin. How’s it going?

**MARTIN:**

_(deadpan)_ I slipped and fell and hit my head on a pair of anal beads earlier.

[SASHA AND TIM BOTH START LAUGHING LOUDLY.]

**SASHA:**

_(still laughing)_ That’s… I mean, wow, that’s typical. Don’t worry about it, this place is just a health hazard. I once impaled myself on a dragon dildo, and not the fun kind of impaling. Right, Tim?

**TIM:**

_(nodding)_ I slipped on lube. Aloe Vera based one, too, and man it _wreaked_. Glad I don’t use that myself. The stairs’ faulty, as well. Be a real shit show if inspection ever came ‘round here.

**MARTIN:**

_(confused)_ Uhhh… Glad I managed to pass my rite of passage relatively unscathed, then?

**TIM:**

Yep, that’s the second one. The other one’s being aggressively hit on by costumers.

**MARTIN:**

_(annoyed)_ _Jesus_ , Tim, you said you wouldn’t bring it up again!

**SASHA:**

_(intrigued)_ Wait, what?

**MARTIN:**

_(fast)_ Nothing.

**TIM:**

Martin got aggressively hit on by an older lady in the strap on isle yesterday.

[MARTIN SIGHS LOUDLY AS IF REMEMBERING THE ORDEAL. SASHA STARTS LAUGHING AGAIN.]

**SASHA:**

I’m sorry, he _what_?

**MARTIN:**

_(murmuring)_ It wasn’t that aggressive…

**TIM:**

She asked you what kind you’d _tested_ before, Martin. Asking for your _professional opinion._ It was aggressive. You looked just about ready to pass out, you were so red in the face.

**MARTIN:**

_(sighing)_ Alright, alright, maybe it came as a little… surprise.

**SASHA:**

_(contemplating)_ Did it work?

[MARTIN MAKES A STRANGLED, OFFENDED NOISE, ACCOMPANIED BY SOMETHING THAT SOUNDS CLOSE TO A SHRIEKED ‘WHAT?’]

**TIM:**

Hmm, good question. Was she able to sink her teeth into you or was the attempt futile? You don’t strike me as the … woman type.

[SASHA MAKES AN AFFIRMATIVE NOISE. THEY’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS BEFORE, JOKED AROUND, THERE’S NO REASON MARTIN’S REPLY SHOULD COME OUT AS RELAXED AS IT DOES OTHERWISE.]

**MARTIN:**

_(only slightly offended)_ Hey, I could be straight!

[THERE’S A LONG HEAVY SILENCE, ACCOMPANIED BY TIM AND SASHA LOOKING HIM UP AND DOWN, UP AND DOWN. EYEING HIS ATTIRE. THEIR EYEBROWS MUST BE RISING TO THEIR HAIRLINE.]

**MARTIN (CONT’D):**

_(sighing)_ … Fine. Sasha, you wanted change?

**SASHA:**

Hmm, oh, what? _(laughing lightly)_ No, actually, I just came down because I was bored out of my mind and was wondering if you’d wanted to switch with me, Martin?

**MARTIN:**

_(confused)_ S-Switch?

**SASHA:**

Yeah, it’s all quiet upstairs. Closing hour and that. Me and Tim need to talk about the upcoming… election. And it’s just Jon upstairs, hoisting one of those heavy bags full of condoms. You know the ones. I don’t even think he needs any help, he’s _surprisingly_ strong, what with those arms of his.

[MARTIN IS ALREADY MAKING HIS WAY UPSTAIRS, TAKING THE STAIRS TWO STEPS AT A TIME.]

**MARTIN:**

S-S-Sure, I guess… If you want…

**SASHA:**

Bye! _(whispering under her breath)_ There he goes…

[THERE’S A FEW BEATS OF SILENCE. FAINT VOICES CAN BE HEARD FROM UPSTAIRS.]

**TIM:**

What was that?

**SASHA:**

_(smiling)_ Just playing matchmaker.

**TIM:**

_(intrigued)_ Why, is there a strapping lad up there to whisk our Martin off his feet?

**SASHA:**

_(snickering)_ No, but there’s Jon.

**TIM:**

I don’t… I don’t understand. What’s he got to do with anything?

[SASHA ROLLING HER EYES AND SIGHING DRAMATICALLY CAN BE HEARD LOUD AND CLEAR.]

**SASHA:**

It really is beauty over brains with you sometimes, isn’t it? Martin’s crushing on _Jon_ , idiot. Has been ever since he started working here.

**TIM:**

_(gasping)_ That … that can’t be… Jon-Jon? Our Jon?

[SASHA SMACKS HER LIPS TOGETHER LOUDLY AND HOPS UP ON THE CASHIER DESK.]

**SASHA:**

Hmm. The one and only. Do you remember Martin’s second shift?

**TIM:**

_(murmuring, seemingly putting the puzzle pieces together)_ He said he had a bad cough.

**SASHA:**

Hmm, anyone would get one, if they saw their crush bend up to retrieve something from a shelf. All the way up. Right in front of them. Martin’s got it bad, believe me.

**TIM:**

Wow… He’s gay… for that? I saw Jon snapping at our crappy coffee machine for fifteen minutes, before realizing that he hadn’t even plugged it in. You _remember_ karaoke night, don’t you?

[SASHA MAKES AN AFFIRMATIVE, PLEASED NOISE.]

**SASHA:**

How could I forget? I swear, that night of drunken shenanigans got me through my first year working here. _(sighing wistfully)_ But yes, glad we’ve got that cleared up. Now all that’s left to decode is whether Jon feels the same.

**TIM:**

I don’t think Jonathan Sims can be _anything_ , sexually speaking. Other than annoyed. And I … I knew Martin had a crush on someone at work, but I didn’t think it’d be _him_. I … I thought it was on me.

**SASHA:**

_(faux sympathy)_ Aww, don’t take it too hard. There’d bound to be one newbie that wouldn’t fall head over heels in love with you. That’s just statistics. You still got all the other 99 percent of the time. You’ll live.

**TIM:**

_(sniffling)_ Brokenhearted…

[SASHA HITS HIM LIGHTHEARTEDLY ON THE SHOULDER, WHICH TIM PROTESTS LOUDLY.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

_Ouch_ , that hurt.

**SASHA:**

_(warmly)_ You’ll survive that, too. Come on now, let’s let Martin and Jon close shop, shall we? I still owe you a pint.

**TIM:**

I don’t recall that.

**SASHA:**

Well, I _want_ to ask you out for drinks. We’ve got election matters to discuss, haven’t we?

[SASHA JUMPS DOWN OFF THE DESK, TIM FOLLOWING SUIT. THERE’S VARIOUS FUMBLING NOISES, SASHA PUTTING ON HER JACKET, TIM OPENING AND CLOSING THE CASH REGISTER. THIS GOES ON A FOR A COUPLE OF MINUTES UNTIL BOTH OF THEM ARE READY TO LEAVE. EXHAUSTED, AS WELL AS RELIEVED, SIGHS CAN BE HEARD.]

**TIM:**

_(jokingly)_ Aren’t you scared I’ll usurp you off your throne if you let your drunken guard down?

[SASHA SNICKERING AS SHE HOLDS THE DOOR OPEN. HARSH OCTOBER WIND IS FINDING ITS WAY INTO THE SHOP.]

**SASHA:**

You couldn’t overthrow me if you tried for a hundred years. But I’d like to see you try.

[THE DOOR DRAWS SHUT.]

[CLICK.]

[CLICK.]

[INT. THE SECOND FLOOR]

[SHARP, QUICK BREATHING. THERE’S THE SOUND OF TWO PEOPLE MOVING, ONE PUSHING SOMETHING UPWARDS. THE ATMOSPHERE’S TENSE, TWO BREATHS INTERMINGLING IN THE SILENCE OF THE VAST ROOM. IT FEELS INTIMATE.]

**MARTIN:**

_(whispering)_ Are you sure you don’t-

 **JON:** _(annoyed)_ _Yes_ , Martin, I’m _quite_ sure-

[A YELP. A BODY IS TUMBLING DOWN, ANOTHER RUNNING TO CATCH IT, TO HOLD IT UPRIGHT. A HEAVY BOX IS CRASHING ONTO THE FLOOR, OPENING ITS BELLY TO REVEAL ITS CONTENTS. JON IS DREADFULLY SILENT.]

 **MARTIN:** _(seemingly at ease with still holding Jon)_ – Need my help?

[A BEAT OF SILENCE.]

**JON:**

_(clearly embarrassed and stuttering)_ I… I-I-It appears that I, I was, was wrong… The, the box might have been heavier than I’d… than I’d anticipated.

[THERE’S AN AWKWARD SILENCE, BOTH OF THEM ARE SCARCELY BREATHING.]

**JON (CONT’D):**

_(softly)_ You… you can let go of me now, Martin.

[MARTIN MAKES A SURPRISED SOUND BEFORE SEEMINGLY LETTING GO, TWO HURRIED PAIRS OF SHOES SCUTTLING AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AS IF CAUGHT.]

**MARTIN:**

_(just as softly)_ Of- Of course, I… Sorry. How’s your leg?

**JON:**

My- my leg?

**MARTIN:**

Yes, I… I’d noticed that you. Well, you limp a little.

[JON MAKES A SURPRISED NOISE; PANICKING AT HAVING BEEN FOUND OUT. MARTIN MEANWHILE CROUCHES DOWN, MEANING TO PICK UP THE CONTENTS OF THE BOX. JON BREATHES IN HARSHLY.]

**MARTIN (CONT’D):**

_(warmly)_ It’s alright… You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ll clean this up.

**JON:**

I, I… That’s not…

**MARTIN:**

No problem. Why… why don’t you go sit down behind the cashier for a little while?

**JON:**

_(trying for annoyance)_ We’re not meant to be sitting down during our shifts. It’s, it’s signaling disinterest to customers. It’s also rude.

**MARTIN:**

_(scoffing)_ Well, tough for them. But if they have the guts to walk in here 5 minutes before closing time, they deserve to be welcomed with less than open arms. _That’s_ rude. _(softer)_ And I have the sinking feeling you’ve been overworking yourself.

**JON:**

That’s… _(sighing)_ My left leg’s just always been acting up. It’s nothing to be concerned over. And we shouldn’t… shouldn’t disobey like that. He always watches.

**MARTIN:**

You reckon? How do you know?

**JON:**

Can’t you feel it? That briskly feeling of being watched. It’s been there ever since I started, maybe even before that. And it’s not just the recorders, it’s… it’s something else. It’s…

**MARTIN:**

It’s oppressive.

**JON:**

_(softly, in pain)_ Yes.

[JON STARTS COUGHING LOUDLY, VIOLENTLY RIPPING HIMSELF OUT OF THE MOMENT THEY’VE JUST SHARED. NO ONE BOTHERS WITH SAYING ANYTHING AFTER, MARTIN CHOOSING TO PUT THE BOX BACK IN ITS RIGHTFUL PLACE, WHILE JON CAN BE HEARD WALKING BACK TOWARDS THE CASH DESK. HE IS LIMPING.]

**JON:**

_(loudly, so Martin will hear him)_ We should do a sweep check up to see if anything’s amiss before closing. _(condescending)_ Do you think you can manage to be left alone yet?

[MARTIN SIGHS SOFTLY. JON IS ALREADY MAKING HIS WAY DOWNSTAIRS, RUDE PERSONA SEEMINGLY BACK IN PLACE. HIS LIMP IS GONE, THOUGH HE STILL DOESN’T WALK NEARLY AS SWIFTLY AS HE SHOULD. FAUX BRAVADO.]

**MARTIN:**

_(talking to himself after Jon has gone)_ Yes, I think I can manage that … Oh, no need to apologize, Jon, it’s alright. That’s sweet of you. What’s that? Oh, you … _(he swallows thickly)_ You want to take me out to drinks as thanks? That, I mean, that’d… That’d be wonderful. I’ve been meaning to ask as well, I -

[THE SOUND OF SOMETHING WET HITTING THE GROUND INTERRUPTS HIM. IT’S LOUD, TWICE THE SIZE AS THE BOX FROM EARLIER. IT ALSO APPEARS TO BE MOVING, WRITHING AND SLITHERING WHERE IT FELL. MARTIN HAS STOPPED TALKING TO HIMSELF AND HIS BREATH IS BARELY AUDIBLE.]

**MARTIN:**

_(whispering, panicked)_ Please no more worms… Please no more worms, please -

[THERE’S A SHARP INHALE IN BETWEEN THAT THRIVING MESS. IT’S JUST AS WET, THOUGH DISTINCTIVELY HUMAN. WHOEVER IT IS SEEMS TO BE IN PAIN. THE WORMS DON’T STOP.]

**MARTIN:**

_(louder)_ H-He-Hello? Jon? Jon, is that you?

[NO ANSWER, BESIDES ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE SHARP INHALES. MARTIN EVER SO SLOWLY EDGES HIS WAY TOWARDS THE NOISE. HE’S HOLDING HIS KEYS, RATTLING THEM FRANTICALLY IN HIS PANIC.]

**MARTIN:**

We… We’re closed…

[A FORCED SIGH OF RELIEF. MARTIN THIS TIME.]

**MARTIN:**

Miss, you really shouldn’t be here this late. It’s… Can I help you? Miss…? _(slower)_ Why are you just standing there in the corner?

[THERE’S MOVEMENT, SOMETHING IS TURNING TOWARDS HIM. MARTIN IS NO LONGER RELIEVED AFTER SEEING WHAT GREETS HIM. ON THE GROUND BENEATH THEM, THE WORMS DANCE AND SLITHER. IT’S A CRESCENDO OF EARTHY MUSIC.]

**MARTIN:**

I… Oh.

[THE PERSON, WHOEVER IT IS, OPENS THEIR MOUTH, INHALING PAINFULLY YET AGAIN. SOMETHING HEAVY HAS FALLEN FROM IT.]

[MARTIN’S SCREAM IS PIERCING, FLOODING THE ENTIRE STORE.]

[CLICK.]


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon displays a lethargic show of solidarity. Martin isn't feeling so good.

[CLICK.]

[EXT. OUTSIDE THE SHOP.]

[MARTIN IS STANDING OUTSIDE IN THE RAIN, SHIVERING, MOSTLY NOT FROM THE COLD. JON IS BESIDE HIM, TRYING TO CALM HIM DOWN.]

**MARTIN:**

_(panicked)_ I told you, I _saw_ her. Just… Standing there in the corner.

**JON:**

I know you think you-

**MARTIN:**

I _saw_ her, Jon, goddamn you! I’m not a … I’m not a loony.

**JON:**

_(soothingly)_ I know. But I checked and there was no one, _nothing_ there. Are you sure you saw a woman?

[MARTIN SIGHS. IT’S CLEAR HE’S BEEN CRYING. THERE’S RAIN HITTING BOTH OF THEIR SHOULDERS IN SOFT, RHYTHMIC BEATS.]

**MARTIN:**

Her… her face was… _(hyperventilating)_ God, her _mouth_ -

**JON:**

Al- Alright. I’ll… go grab my things and then… then I’ll escort you home.

**MARTIN:**

_(shocked)_ You _what?_

**JON:**

Don’t, don’t argue with me right now, just stay put. _Don’t_ go back inside.

**MARTIN:**

_(softly)_ Why… Why are you so nice to me?

**JON:**

_(sighing)_ Martin.

[FEET ARE SHUFFLING AS JON PRESUMABLY GENTLY GRABS MARTIN’S SHOULDERS, WILLING HIM TO LISTEN.]

**JON (CONT’D):**

Whatever it is that you saw in there, it was enough to give you half a heart attack. If, if it can scare you that severely, it… _(Short silence)_ It must have been bad.

[HE LETS GO OF MARTIN AGAIN, MAKES HIS WAY BACK TOWARDS THE ENTRY. THE RAIN KEEPS POURING DOWN ON BOTH OF THEM. NEITHER OF THEM SEEM TO CARE.]

**JON (CONT’D):**

Wait here. I’ll be right back.

**MARTIN:**

_(sniffling softly)_ Do you believe me, though?

[THERE’S HEAVY SILENCE ACCOMPANYING THAT SENTENCE. JON IS STRUGGLING FOR WORDS.]

**JON:**

I … I want to help you. And I’m going to accompany you home. Just …

[HURRIED FOOTSTEPS. THE DOOR SLAMS SHUT AS JON RACES BACK INSIDE, CLEARLY IN A HURRY. MARTIN IS ONCE AGAIN ALONE.]

**MARTIN:**

(sighing sadly) That’s… That’s not the same…

[CLICK.]

[CLICK.]

[INT. THE FIRST FLOOR]

[THERE’S MULTIPLE PEOPLE PRESENT, THE SOUND OF A CASH REGISTER OPENING AND CLOSING AS WELL AS VARIOUS OFF HANDED “THANK YOU”S INDICATE THAT THE PLACE IS LIVELIER THAN USUAL. A MAN IS FUMBLING WITH SOME CASH.]

**JON:**

Thank you, have- have a great day!

**CUSTOMER:**

Don’t tell me what to do.

**JON:**

O-… Okay…

[THE DOORBELL JINGLES, INDICATING THAT THE CUSTOMER HAS LEFT. THERE’S AT LEAST TWO OTHER PEOPLE PRESENT, JON EXCLUDED. IT’S A BUSY DAY. A FRIDAY. PEOPLE ARE OUT TO BUY THEIR WEEKEND SUPPLIES, WHICH IS MOSTLY CONDOMS. THERE’S ANOTHER PAIR OF FAST FOOTSTEPS, STOCKING AND RESTOCKING CLOSE TO THE CASH REGISTER.]

**TIM:**

_(softly)_ Look, all I’m saying is just think about it?

**JON:**

_(sighing)_ Tim, for the last time, I won’t sign your bloody petition to allow us worker discounts-

**TIM:**

_No_ , not that. Although, that’s not very comradery of you, is it, Jonathan? Just because _you_ don’t have any use for it?

[JON MAKES AN OFFENDED CHOKED OFF SOUND, CLEARLY WANTING TO ARGUE.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

Just saying, that sounds like type a class traitor to me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d even say … a tory …

**JON:**

How dare y- _(cutting himself off at the sound of approaching footsteps)_ _(obvious fake excitement)_ Hello, how may I help you?

**CUSTOMER:**

I want lube. And condoms.

[THERE’S A HEAVY SILENCE. JON AND TIM APPEAR TO BE COMMUNICATING SILENTLY, STARING BACK AND FORTH. AFTER A WHILE TIM SIGHS IN DEFEAT.]

**TIM:**

Well, right then. What type of lube would you prefer? Water or silicone-based? How’d you feel about oil?

**CUSTOMER:**

_(clearly didn’t get any of that)_ Uhh… Just lube?

**TIM:**

There are different pros and cons to them of course, water-based for example tends to dry up quickly and only allows for a … a _short_ amount of fun. Safest to use with toys, though, as well as odorless. Silicone, on the other ha-

**CUSTOMER:**

_(sweating)_ Look, just give me whatever.

**TIM:**

But-

**CUSTOMER:**

_(speaking very fast)_ Look, my mum is outside, and I’ve only got a couple minutes until I’m supposed to get back in the car and drive to my Grandma’s and my … my brother told me to buy some, for, for. For myself. And I’ve still got chores for the day and mum’ll want that done and-

**TIM:**

_(cutting him off)_ Right. Give me… five seconds. Be right back. Jon, hold the fort for me.

[HE HURRIES OFF, LEAVING JON WITH AN OBVIOUSLY VERY NERVOUS AND VERY SWEATY YOUNG ADULT.]

**JON:**

_(murmuring)_ As if you’d been working before.

**CUSTOMER:**

Hmm, sorry? Were you talking to me?

**JON:**

_(annoyed)_ Clearly not.

**CUSTOMER:**

Alright, then. I, I just… I just want you to know that I don’t normally do this. I don’t… visit these types of stores. I … I play clarinet? I mean, I _never_ visit this. Often. I, I mean… Do you?

**JON:**

_(deadpan)_ I work here.

**CUSTOMER:**

Oh… Shit, sorry, I- _Shit,_ is swearing allowed here?

**JON:**

This is a sex shop.

**CUSTOMER:**

So…?

[JON CAN BE HEARD SIGHING AND RUBBING HIS TEMPLE, MUTTERING SOMETHING UNDER HIS BREATH.]

**JON:**

_(sarcastically)_ No. No, it’s not.

[THEY’RE SAVED THE UNBELIEVABLY AWKWARD MOMENT BY TIM RUNNING BACK, JIGGLING SOMETHING FILLED WITH LIQUID AND PLASTIC WRAP IN HIS HANDS. LUBE AND CONDOMS.]

**TIM:**

Hah, got ya! Now, this is the _best-_

[HE HANDS HIM THE PRODUCTS.]

**CUSTOMER:**

(sincere) Oh, oh thank _God_ , I… _(wet laughter)_ Thank you.

**TIM:**

Uhh, you’re welcome…? I picked the normal-sized condoms for you, just in-

**CUSTOMER:**

_(fast)_ That’ll be perfect, thank you, _(head snapping back towards the cash register)_ How much?

[THERE’S THE SOUND OF INFORMATION BEING PUNCHED INTO A COMPUTER, DELIBERATELY SLOW. IT’S ALMOST AS IF JON IS STALLING INTENTIONALLY.]

**JON:**

13.98 £.

**CUSTOMER:**

Cool cool, here _(putting something on the table)_ Thanks for your help, gotta run!

[HURRIED FOOTSTEPS.]

**JON:**

_(alarmed)_ Wait, that’s… that’s 20-

[THE DOORBELL JINGLES AS IT’S CLOSED YET AGAIN.]

**JON (CONT’D):**

That’s a left-over of over 6 pounds.

**TIM:**

_(whistling)_ Nice, we just got tipped!

**JON:**

_(annoyed)_ We most certainly did _not_. Run after him and give him back his change!

**TIM:**

_(winces) Yeeaaah._ About that. I don’t _do_ running unless something’s chasing after me, so. And especially not for a measly 6 quid. We’ll just buy the next round of coffee beans with it. Or bagels.

**JON:**

It’s not _ours._

**TIM:**

Do _you_ feel like dashing out there and embarrassing a poor kid in front of his mother? Then be my guest.

[JON HUMS IN CONTEMPLATION.]

**JON:**

On second thought, you appear to have a point.

**TIM:**

Yes, that tends to happen. I tend to be right. Hey, speaking of things I got right, where’s Martin? Haven’t seen him around in a while.

**JON:**

(bewildered) You- _What_? It’s not his shift.

[TIM IS CLICKING HIS TONGUE OBNOXIOUSLY, TRYING TO INFURIATE JON EVEN MORE. THE CONVERSATION HEADS TOWARDS THE AWKWARD.]

**TIM:**

Hmm. But you see, it was his shift yesterday, and he didn’t show up, either. Instead, _you_ called in Sasha, knowing damn well it was her day off.

**JON:**

You know I don’t appreciate your daily little gossip talks. Must everything eventually find its way back to you?

**TIM:**

Jep. So, what gives? Is he sick? Having a depressive episode at the idea of working another day in retail? Sasha says you two had a very friendly phone conversation.

**JON:**

_(sighing)_ Fine. I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but if you must know … _(quieter)_ I told him to take the day off.

[THERE’S A HEAVY SILENCE. TIM CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT HE’S HEARING.]

**TIM:**

I’m sorry, you _what?_

**JON:**

Like I said, it’s-

**TIM:**

None of my business, yeah. Except that when the last time a newbie said he wanted to stay home, you told him “tough”. It’s what you _do_. You remember the last one, before he’d … _left_?

**JON:**

_(nervously)_ I … I don’t remember.

**TIM:**

Hmm, that’s strange. Me neither.

[AWKWARD SILENCE.]

**JON:**

I’m not… I’m not _unreasonable_ , Tim.

[TIM MAKES A VAGUE NOISE OF AFFIRMATION, SORT OF A ‘EHH’. THINKING OF A FEW TIMES HIS REQUESTS OF SHIFT CHANGES HAVE BEEN REBUFFED IN THE PAST.]

**JON (CONT’D):**

_(offended)_ I’m _not!_

[THE DOORBELL SIGNALS ANOTHER CUSTOMER. JON HURRIEDLY QUIETS HIS OUTBURST. JON AND TIM BOTH MUTTER “GOOD DAY” IN UNISON. THERE’S NO REPLY.]

 **TIM:**  
Fine. I just hope Martin doesn’t take the position of ‘your favourite co-worker’ from me. He’s in for a fight if he thinks I won’t go down swinging.

**JON:**

_(snorts)_ I highly doubt the duration of that fight will be that long.

**TIM:**

_(faux sadness)_ Now you’re just being needlessly hurtful. I know you value the hell out of our banter, Sims. Don’t even deny it. I at least hope the ‘sexiest co-worker’ won’t be swayed in his favour, as well. I’ve worked hard for that position.

[JON STARTS BLUSHING FURIOUSLY, CHOKING ON HIS OWN WORDS. IT SOUNDS PAINFUL, THIS MUMBLING AND STUTTERING PANIC.]

**JON:**

_(awkwardly)_ I, I-

**TIM:**

_(snickering)_ Forget it. I’ll just get back to work, one of us has to after all.

[JON MAKES A SOUND LIKE HE’S TAKEN OFFENSE TO THAT. TIM PAYS HIM NO MIND. TIM IS STARTING TO MAKE HIS WAY TOWARDS ANOTHER ISLE.]

**TIM (CONT’D):**

_(louder)_ Just think about tomorrow, alright? It’ll be fun, all of us together. We never do that anymore. And I bet _Martin_ would love to socialize with you, Sasha and me.

**JON:**

_(sighing)_ I don’t know what you mean and _no_. I told you, I have plans.

**TIM:**

Locking yourself into your flat and devouring 3 books at once are _not_ plans, Jon. And certainly not ones not worth postponing for a night out with your mates.

**JON:**

_(louder)_ No, Tim.

**TIM:**

_(yelling at him from another aisle)_ Class traitor!

[JON SOUNDS AS IF HE WANTS TO YELL SOMETHING BACK, AN INSULT PERHAPS, UNTIL HE NOTICES THE NEW PAIR OF EYES LOOKING AT HIM STRANGELY, HOLDING UP SOMETHING. A CUSTOMER.]

**JON:**

_(awkwardly)_ Oh, ummm, I- _(coughing)_ Apologies. How may I help you?

[THE CUSTOMER ASKS HIM SOMETHING, BUT IT’S MUFFLED AND QUIET. TIM CAN STILL BE HEARD SNICKERING IN THE BACKGROUND. SLOWLY, THE VOICES ALL FADE OUT ONE BY ONE.]

[CLICK.]


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding time! (TW: little talk of depression and unhealthy relationships)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it interesting how very little we know about Sasha, besides a few snippets here and there, like the fact that she's a skeptic etc. Rip to Jonny Sims, but I'm different, I guess.

[CLICK.]

[EXT. A BACK ALLEY.]

[SOMEONE IS SMOKING A CIGARETTE, TAKING A DRAG EVERY SO OFTEN. ALL THE COMMOTION AND NOISE OF THE STREETS CAN BE HEARD HERE, THOUGH THEY’RE QUIETER THAN USUAL. IT’S EARLY. OPENING TIME. WHOEVER HAS THE MISFORTUNE OF OPENING THE SHOP IS STILL VERY MUCH DOZY, LISTENING TO AN OLD SONG BY ANDREW GOLD ON THEIR PHONE TO WAKE THEMSELVES UP.]

**MARTIN:**

… Sasha?

[THERE’S A NEW SET OF STEPS, THOUGH THEY’RE QUIETER. TIMID.]

**SASHA:**

_(quietly)_ Come on, work already.

**MARTIN:**

Spooky, scary skeletons? Really?

[SASHA IS CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY THIS. SHE FRIGHTS SO VIOLENTLY HER ELBOWS COME INTO CONTACT WITH THE PAIR OF BIG BINS NEXT TO HER, CAUSING THEM TO RATTLE LOUDLY WITH ALL THE CONTENTS INSIDE – WHATEVER TRASH A SEX SHOP COULD PRODUCE.]

**SASHA:**

Ouch, _Jesus!_ Don’t just creep up on me like that!

[SHE IS OBVIOUSLY RATTLED, THOUGH MARTIN IS GIVEN THE IMPRESSION THAT IT’S MORE THAN JUST THE SURPRISE.]

**MARTIN:**

S-Sorry. But you had your earphones in and I – Were you listening to spooky, scary skeletons just now?

**SASHA:**

_(embarrassed)_ … What about it.

**MARTIN:**

It’s – It’s March.

**SASHA:**

I celebrate Samhain early.

[THERE’S AN AWKWARD SILENCE.]

**MARTIN:**

… Ah. Well, I just… I wanted to, it – It’s my shift. And I’m a little late, so I’d assumed you’d opened the shop by now, but the entry was locked, so I – I’d just…

**SASHA:**

You went ‘round back. I get it. _(sighing, stomping out her cigarette)_ Let’s open this baby up, then. Can’t wait to supply London’s creeps with their weekly spy googles and porn magazines.

**MARTIN:**

I- Sorry?

[SASHA MUMBLES A “NOTHING” AS HER KEYS OPEN THE DOOR TO THE BACKROOM. MARTIN TENTAVILY FOLLOWS HER, LEAVES THE REAL WORLD BEHIND. IT’S DARK AND QUIET INSIDE. MARTIN LETS OUT A SHUDDERING BREATH AS THE LIGHT SWITCH IS FLICKED ON.]

**SASHA:**

Scared of the dark?

**MARTIN:**

_(quietly)_ Look, it’s not… not that. I just don’t want to see any more… worms.

**SASHA:**

Is that why you took the week off? Because you were scared of them?

[MARTIN RESOLUTELY DOESN’T SAY ANYTHING, JUST PUSHES OPEN THE DOOR TO THE MAIN FLOOR OF THE SHOP. HE’S EMBARRASSED.]

**SASHA (CONT’D):**

You can tell me, you know. I won’t judge. I’ve got my fair share of frights, believe me.

**MARTIN:**

You’ll just laugh at me. _(shaking his head)_ I imagined it all in my head anyway, so there’s no reason to be so frightened.

[SILENCE. SASHA IS CONTEMPLATING ON WHETHER TO OPEN UP, TO REVEAL HERSELF TO HIM SO PLAINLY. IT’S A STRUGGLE, BUT ONE SHE WINS IN DUE TIME.]

**SASHA:**

_(sighing)_ Martin, I haven’t opened the shop yet because I was waiting for my meds to kick in.

[MARTIN STOPS MIDWAY AT THAT, LOOKING BACK.]

**MARTIN:**

S-Sorry? Your… meds? … Aspirin?

[SASHA LAUGHS COLDLY.]

**SASHA:**

_(sarcastic)_ You’re meaning to tell me that the blue pills I’ve been swallowing every morning for months now so that I manage to drag myself out of bed _aren’t_ Aspirin? Shocking.

**MARTIN:**

You- You take antidepressants? But… why?

**SASHA:**

_(deadpan)_ Martin, I’m a 29-year-old woman who’s been working in retail for 5 years now. Obviously, I take antidepressants. My mother would tell me it’s because I’m still single and haven’t achieved anything in life. _(Silence)_ Just… Just give me half an hour, then I’ll be back to my quirky, bubbly self.

[MARTIN IS QUIET FOR A BIT, UNSURE OF WHAT TO SAY TO THAT REVELATION.]

**SASHA (CONT’D):**

_(hurt)_ That’s what I thought. So, you don’t need to worry. You’re not the only lunatic in here.

**MARTIN:**

No, that’s not – I’m not… You’re not a lunatic.

[SASHA SNORTS LOUDLY AS SHE MAKES HER WAY TO THE LOCKED DOOR, KEYS JIGGLING IN HER GRIP.]

**SASHA:**

Do you know why I can’t work on Wednesdays? It’s not because I hate that particular day of the week, or because it’s awfully busy in here and I try to avoid the hassle. I’ve got therapy on Wednesday, all the way in St James’. She’s … a little old-fashioned, but you know.

**MARTIN:**

_(sadly, as if he’s familiar with the concept)_ Yeah … My mum, she … Never mind. So, does your therapist give you any advice?

[SASHA SMILES AS SHE MAKES HER WAY BACK TO THE CASHIER’S DESK, CONFIDENT THAT THEY’LL BE ALONE FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER HOUR OR SO. NO ONE VISITS A SHOP LIKE THEIRS AT 8 IN THE MORNING.]

**SASHA:**

Yes, she tells me to quit, leave this sorry excuse of a job behind and pursue my dreams.

**MARTIN:**

_(warmly)_ Which are?

**SASHA:**

Honestly? I don’t know. I barely even know what to make myself for dinner. But maybe… I’d like to visit the world, someday. Not just other European cities, but _everywhere_. It’s cliché, I know, but I’ve never gone farther than Croydon. And that’s only because an ex of mine used to live there. Maybe then I’d even do something with my language degrees… Maybe catch a good night’s sleep… That’s… God, that’s embarrassing. _(she laughs)_ Yikes. Sorry you had to listen to me whine about my life. Do you… Do you want to open the register upstairs?

**MARTIN:**

It’s alright. I like listening to your aspirations. And for what it’s worth, I think… I think you’d make a world-class backpacker.

**SASHA:**

_(quietly)_ Thank you, Martin. You’re not too bad. I hope you get to stay.

[MARTIN, ALTHOUGH CLEARLY NOT UNDERSTANDING WHAT SHE MEANS BY THAT, TAKES IT AS A COMPLIMENT AND SMILES.]

**SASHA (CONT’D):**

_(coughs)_ So, let’s go waste 6 hours of our young lives, shall we? Upper floor or first floor? We’re only 2 so far, so we’ll have to each manage our own.

[MARTIN GOES QUIET AT THAT. AWFULLY QUIET, EXCEPT FOR HIS LABORED BREATHING.]

**SASHA (CONT’D):**

… Martin?

[HE BREATHES OUT LOUDLY.]

**MARTIN:**

C-Can, Can I- I mean, would you mind … Would you mind if I stayed down here? At the… Near the door?

**SASHA:**

_(hesitating)_ Are you sure? It’s just, this room is usually crowded by noon and the second floor is the one that’s all nice and quiet-

**MARTIN:**

Nope, yep. I’m sure.

**SASHA:**

_(still unsure)_ Do you know how to work this register yet?

**MARTIN:**

Yes.

[SASHA GIVES HIM A LONG LOOK OF DOUBT. MARTIN SIGHS.]

**MARTIN (CONT’D):**

… No.

**SASHA:**

Where’d you say your last job was again?

**MARTIN:**

_(panicking)_ It… It was in… In… Oh, bollocks. Please… Please don’t… Don’t tell-

**SASHA:**

What kind of qualifications did you fabricate for your CV, newbie?

[MARTIN SIGHS RESOLUTELY AT HAVING BEEN FOUND OUT. IT SOUNDS AS IF HE’S RESIGNING HIMSELF TO GETTING FIRED.]

**MARTIN:**

_(quietly)_ 4 years’ experience as a sales associate. I think. I’m… I’m not sure. It’s, I sent out millions of applications. Hard to keep track of all the lies after a while. I just… You don’t understand. I, I needed the money, still do, and with my mum sick again, I –

**SASHA:**

_(whistling happily)_ Wow. Bravo.

**MARTIN:**

I know, I’m sorry, I – Wait, _what?_

**SASHA:**

Good for you for tricking that old hag Bouchard into giving you this position. Screw them, right? Can’t even take care of a bloody worm infestation. Rich bastard.

**MARTIN:**

You’re… You’re not going to tell anyone?

**SASHA:**

Pff, I’m not a snitch. But you _do_ have to tell me one more thing-

**MARTIN:**

Oh, God.

**SASHA:**

What was your last job and how’d you get fired?

[SILENCE. MARTIN SEEMS EMBARRASSED.]

**MARTIN:**

I… I’d rather not say.

**SASHA:**

_(sighing)_ Fine. You don’t have to tell me. I just wanted some gossip to take my mind off things, but I understand if you _(she sighs dramatically again for effect)_ if you feel you can’t reveal yourself to me…

**MARTIN:**

_Fine_ , my God.

[SASHA LAUGHS IN TRIUMPH.]

**MARTIN (CONT’D):**

You’re worse than my mum, I swear. I used to work in a restaurant before, as a waiter. Before that, I had the odd jobs here and there, never really long enough to warrant any sort of training. I never made myself comfortable long enough to warrant them looking more deeply into my qualifications… It was – It was a little hipster vegan bar in SoHo, the whole thing. You know the ones, gentrification bullocks.

[SASHA GROANS IN DISGUST.]

**MARTIN (CONT’D):**

_(laughs softly)_ Yes, well. It was good money and decent hours.

**SASHA:**

Whatever made them fire you? It can’t have been your attire, you’re perfect for that.

**MARTIN:**

_(offended)_ What’s _that_ supposed to mean?

**SASHA:**

Nothing, just that you’ve been wearing the same outfit to work for months now – Shirt with a knitted jumper on top. And those round glasses.

**MARTIN:**

… Yes? And what about it?

**SASHA:**

Need I remind you that you work in a _sex_ shop? You look positively grotesque next to Tim, for example.

**MARTIN:**

… That’s a fair point. But Jon – _(he stutters slightly)_ J-Jon wears buttoned-up shirts.

**SASHA:**

Yes, but that’s only so he can convince himself he works a respectable job and hasn’t been stuck here for years biding time like the rest of us. We all have our vices. For him it’s denial. I’m sure you’ve noticed his leg.

**MARTIN:**

His leg…?

**SASHA:**

It’s been “just acting up” for 5 years now, for as long as I’ve known him. But he’ll be damned if he ever gets any professional _help_ for it, instead of suffering in silence… Who knows, maybe he just hopes that if we ever do go out together, he won’t automatically be read as our boss, but just as a respectable, grumpy librarian with a wide liberal range of friends. It took me and Tim a year and a half to convince Jon to open the first buttons of his shirt. _(she laughs)_ Now he just looks like a _sexy_ librarian. But I’m sure you’ve noticed that already.

[MARTIN STUTTERS FURIOUSLY, HE MUST BE BLUSHING RED LIKE A TOMATO. SASHA LAUGHS LOUDLY.]

**SASHA (CONT’D):**

_(warmly)_ I’m just playing jokes, don’t worry. But you do still need to tell me what you did that offended those hipsters. Did you smuggle a chocolate bar into work? Insinuate that soymilk tasted bloody disgusting? You have to tell me, otherwise I won’t open this cash register for you.

**MARTIN:**

That’s blackmail.

**SASHA:**

It’s the only way things get done around here. Why else do you think Jon allowed me to have all of my Wednesdays off, no questions asked? Certainly not because he used to fancy me.

**MARTIN:**

_(does a double turn)_ He used to _like_ you? _Like_ like?

**SASHA:**

Not the point. How did you sour the soymilk, Martin?

[THERE’S A HEAVY SILENCE. MARTIN IS EITHER UNSURE OF HOW TO PROCEED OR FIGHTING AGAINST THE URGE TO FLEE. HE KEEPS BREATHING IN AND OUT IRREGULARLY.]

**MARTIN:**

_(quietly)_ We… we broke up.

**SASHA:**

_(straining to hear him)_ Sorry?

**MARTIN:**

I said… _(sighing)_ I said that we broke up.

**SASHA:**

… You and the bar?

**MARTIN:**

_What_ \- No. Me and the owner. Me and … Me and him just didn’t work out any longer. He… He’d realized too late that I wasn’t as … intellectual as he’d wanted me to be. He’d taken pity on me before I guess and landed me the job. Was one of those student types from Oxford, whose parent’s money managed to buy him the establishment.

**SASHA:**

You seduced a rich hipster kid to get a job?

**MARTIN:**

_(louder) No!_

**SASHA:**

… He seduced you, then?

**MARTIN:**

_(stuttering)_ N-None, none of that. W-We… _(sighing)_ Look, we met on OkCupid, alright? We went on a few, a few dates, found out we both loved poetry, dated for a couple months before I’d lost my previous position. First ever relationship. He was nice, alright? I still lived with my mother, and she – Well, let’s just say that the only reason she even vaguely accepted our relationship was because of his financial standing. Which I hated, as did he. He hated being seen as his parent’s heir.

**SASHA:**

_(sarcastically)_ Oh, that must have been so hard for him. Poor baby. I’m sure he could dry his tears with a couple of quid though, couldn’t he?

**MARTIN:**

_(heated)_ Don’t. He saved my- Look, without him, we would have gotten evicted, alright? He lent me money without hesitation. Helped with my mother’s insurance. Employed me. What we had was good. For a while.

[SASHA MURMURS “MORE LIKE A PET PROJECT” UNDER HER BREATH.]

**MARTIN (CONT’D):**

_(threateningly)_ Look, gossip about me all you want, but don’t try to drag his name through the mud. He’s… Things just didn’t work out. It happens. It was my first real relationship, so of course, I wasn’t … exactly the best boyfriend.

**SASHA:**

_(murmuring)_ He called you a dumb twit…

**MARTIN:**

_(loud sigh)_ So, will you help me with the register or not? Or, or I can just hit a few buttons and hope that’ll work. _(trying for humour)_ I could try opening it with a crowbar?

[SASHA MAKES A NOISE LIKE SHE’S JUST REALIZED SOMETHING HURTFUL.]

**SASHA:**

When you two ended things, he didn’t even give you a job reference or nothing, did he? Isn’t that right? It’s why you’re here, instead of catering in any of the thousand other restaurants scattered all over this city.

[MARTIN MAKES A NOISE LIKE A WOUNDED ANIMAL, BOTH A CRY AND A THREAT FOR HER TO STOP TALKING. SHE SOLDIERS ON, ROUNDING THE DESK TO THE CASH REGISTER.]

**SASHA:**

You spent what seems like years having a relatively stable and happy life only for that to be pulled right from under you, by a guy who couldn’t have cared less in the end. He most likely didn’t even realize, after all, I bet _he_ never had to go job hunting in London. And now you’re back at square one, right where you’d started.

**MARTIN:**

_(loud cough obviously meant as a warning to drop the subject)_ S-S-Sasha. The register.

[SASHA STARES AT HIM FOR A LONG MOMENT, PROLONGING THE SILENCE A CONSIDERABLE AMOUNT. THERE STILL AREN’T ANY CUSTOMERS INSIGHT. AFTER A WHILE SHE SNAPS HERSELF OUT OF IT.]

**SASHA:**

Hmmm. Martin?

**MARTIN:**

_(tentatively)_ Y-yes?

**SASHA:**

_(in a serious tone)_ If all hell breaks loose and you run into trouble, I’m sure you can manage to seduce our boss. Both Jon and… You know. The other one. I have faith in you. Bloody hell, I might even help you.

[MARTIN LAUGHS, BUT IT SOUNDS WET LIKE HE’S CHOKING DOWN A SOB AS WELL.]

[THEY BOTH DROP THE SUBJECT AFTER THAT, RUBBED RAW WITH EMOTION. SASHA TAKES THE LAST QUIET MOMENTS OF THE MORNING TO PATIENTLY EXPLAIN THE REGISTER AND ITS MACHINATIONS TO MARTIN, WHO LISTENS INTENTLY BUT REMAINS SUSPICIOUSLY SILENT THE ENTIRE TIME. THE WHOLE TRAINING SESSION TAKES UP ABOUT 20 MINUTES OF WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THEIR BREAK. AFTER, SASHA’S SNEAKERS SQUEAK AS SHE MAKES HER WAY UPSTAIRS.]

**SASHA:**

Alright, that should be all. Let me know if you need any more help with any-

**MARTIN:**

… Sasha?

**SASHA:**

Yes?

**MARTIN:**

_(quietly)_ … Thanks. For being my potential accomplice. And for not telling on me.

**SASHA:**

_(she laughs)_ Hey, don’t act like me helping you screw over – and in the funniest case scenarios actually _screw_ – our boss doesn’t hold any emotional rewards for me, too. Do you know how many newbies he managed to either scare off or fire within the blink of an eye, never to be seen again? People… People I’d befriended.

**MARTIN:**

_(sheepishly)_ S-Still. Thank you.

[SASHA DOESN’T REPLY, JUST LOOKS AT HIM WARMLY FOR A SECOND BEFORE SHE YAWNS AS LOUD AND AS DRAMATICALLY AS POSSIBLE.]

**SASHA:**

Well, if you need me, I’ll be upstairs in my little kinky paradise, blasting Halloween hits to convince my brain _not_ to fall asleep while standing upright.

**MARTIN:**

Good luck.

**SASHA:**

You too. If you see any more worms, just scream.

**MARTIN:**

_(laughing)_ Oh, I, I definitely will.

[CLICK.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my personal headcanon that Martin's been in an emotionally abusive relationship before (not just because I see myself in him lol). His mother certainly didn't give him any confidence either, but there's a certain ... Hmmmmm ... about the fact that he just blatantly doesn't stop crushing on Jon or being nice to him even when Jon calls him a "useless ass" in Season 1. That misplaced affection. I almost get the feeling Martin is used to that kind of demeaning behaviour in his romantic relationships (in the same vein, I also don't think he would even register said insults from his bf as emotional abuse), but maybe that's just me. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Feel free to disagree.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to yell at me about this fic more passionately I am (sadly still) [on tumblr](http://zukosgay.tumblr.com/) or [on twitter](https://twitter.com/dykeula)


End file.
